


Minnesota Nice

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Other Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-05
Updated: 2006-03-05
Packaged: 2018-08-16 00:49:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8080252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Some conflicts don't have diplomatic solutions. Missing scenes, 3.17 "Hatchery." Reed/m. (04/26/2004)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Spoilers: 3.15 "Harbinger," 3.17 "Hatchery," general Season 3.

Self-inflicted wounding (this is NOT a deathfic). Remember how Sergeant Kemper was originally from Duluth? This is a coda of sorts to my Substitutes for Sustenance series, specifically "A Moment in Time and Space" and "Something to Give in Return." You don't need to have read them to understand what's going on, however.  
  
And this is dedicated to Kylie Lee, for all the work she does unfailingly and uncomplainingly for the Warp 5 archive and CoffeeSlash, and for all the casual generosity she doesn't even think about.

Beta: Kylie Lee and Sarah. Thank you so much, guys!  


* * *

"Hey, Major," Sergeant Joshua Kemper called across the gym. Joshua was on one of the treadmillsâ€”he'd set the speed as high as his body could manage, relishing the feeling of going flat out, the heavy, solid working of his heart and lungs. It wasn't nearly as good as running outside, back on the base in Georgia, but he'd take what he could get.

For a second, Major Matthew Hayes looked almost wary; then he saw Joshua, and he visibly relaxed. "Thank God," he said. He came all the way into the gym, unzipping his jacket and tossing it into a corner. He gave Joshua a rueful smile. "For a moment there I thought you were the commander." He gestured at his head. "Same color hair."

Joshua laughed. He was breathing a little heavily, but not yet winded. "Not up for socializing with the fleeters?"

Matthew shook his head. "No." His expression said volumes more than the single word. He climbed onto the treadmill next to Joshua, his combat boots making heavy thunks on the plastic. He rolled his shoulders in a brief stretch, then set the treadmill and took off like a rabbit.

Joshua's eyes widened, watching the speed gauge climb as the major kept pressing it with his thumb. "Rough day?" He glanced at his own gauge, then back at Matthew's. He quietly thumbed his treadmill's speed up a bit.

Matthew didn't even nod. "Either I outrun it, or I take someone's head off."

"Okay." Joshua glanced at the major's speed gauge again. At the rate he was going he wouldn't be able to talk very much longer. "Want to tell me about it?"

Matthew glanced at him. "No."

Joshua just shrugged, then had to grab one of the handles to rebalance himself. "Better than collapsing from exhaustion."

"I know my limits, Sergeant," Matthew said. He thumbed up his speed again, as if to underscore the point.

"Yes, sir." Joshua turned his head determinedly back to his treadmill readouts. He increased his speed, too. If they weren't talking, there was no point in saving his breath.

"What the hell do you see in him, anyway?"

Joshua almost stumbled again in surprise. "Commander Tucker?" He dialed down the speed again.

"What," Matthew growled, "now you're dating him, too? Try to keep up, Joshâ€”I meant Malcolm Reed."

"Oh," Joshua said. That explained a lot. "I don't know what to tell you, sir." He looked at the major. "What do you want to know?"

"Cut the subordinate crap, Josh," Matthew said. "You're the only one on the ship I can stand who's anywhere near my rankâ€”if I hear one more 'sir' or 'major' out of you tonight, you're going out a porthole."

"Sure, Matt." Joshua grinned.

"Good," Matthew grunted. "So," he said almost conversationally a moment later, "what the fuck is Lieutenant Reed's problem?"

Despite the belligerent wording, Joshua knew the question was actually serious. "I don't think I can answer that without knowing what happened," he said.

"Fine." Matthew sounded like explaining would be a terrible sacrifice on his part. "I finally get a minute of his precious time today, to talk to him about weapon's training." The major's jaw twitched, showing his anger. "He accused me of playing games all day in the armory." He dropped into brooding silence, scowling down at the readouts.

Joshua glanced at him in amazement. "Why?" He couldn't imagine Malcolm saying thatâ€”couldn't believe that the lieutenant would have so little respect for the MACOs. For him. "Why'd he say that?"

"Commander Chuck's target scores are crap," Matthew said. That explained nothing, but Joshua knew he had to be patient. "I told the Looey we need to schedule more practice. Bring up everyone's skill level." Matthew shook his head. "Malcolm told me that Chuck wouldn't like that becauseâ€”get thisâ€”the day I suggested was _movie night._ " He sounded incredulous with disgust. "Movie night," he sneered. "Last I checked there was a fucking war on."

Joshua liked movie night. It was great watching the old films and not having to think about anything. He slept better those nights. But this was no time to tell Matthew that. "So what did you do?" He lowered his speed a bit further, noting with satisfaction that Matthew finally slowed his treadmill down some, too. He was certain the major hadn't just accepted Malcolm's refusal.

"I asked if maybe Chucky could sacrifice some leisure time for the sake of the mission."

Joshua almost winced, imagining how well that had likely gone over. "Then what?"

Matthew glowered. "'The senior officers _do_ have other duties.'" His imitation of Malcolm's precise speech was perfect, even if he didn't have the accent. "'We can't all spend our time playing holographic games in the armory.'"

"Oh." Joshua did wince, that time. "Ouch." At least Malcolm's dig made more sense now, though. He sighed, eying the speed gauge again. He was getting too stressed to keep running this fast for much longer. "Was that it?"

"Not entirely," Matthew said. His eyes looked black with remembered fury. "I threatened to go to the captain, ask him instead."

"Good move," Joshua said caustically. He thumbed the treadmill to a stop and grabbed his towel, scrubbing at his hair. "I'm surprised he didn't try to take you out again."

Matthew was still running smoothly. He returned Joshua's glare with a flat, closed expression. "Something you want to tell me, Sergeant?"

Joshua smirked, but it was humorless. "As a matter of fact I do, _sir._ " He turned so that he was standing sideways on the treadmill, leaning his forearms on the rail. "What the hell did you think he was going to say?"

Matthew jammed his own treadmill off, whirling to face Joshua the instant it stopped moving. "I _thought_ he was going to say I was right!" He spat. "I thought he gave a rat's ass about the success of this mission!"

"You fucking insulted his commander, Matt!" Joshua smacked his palms against the metal rail. "What was he meant to doâ€”tell you that yeah, Trip's an asshole for wanting to have a life? How the hell would you have reacted?"

"None of us will have lives if we fail!" Matthew roared.

"He knows that!" Joshua roared back.

"Then whyâ€”!" Matthew stopped, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands.

It was painfully obvious he was fighting to bring his temper back under control. Joshua waited, fists clenched around the treadmill railing.

"Then why," Matthew said slowly, calmly, a long moment later, "won't he listen to me?"

Joshua took a deep breath. "Because every single 'suggestion' you make forces him to either refuse outright, or knuckle under to you."

"That's bullshit."

Joshua raised his eyebrows. "Really?" He leaned a little closer over the side of the treadmill, as if his proximity could help Matthew understand. "He's been on this ship nearly three years, Matt. He's kept the crew safe all that time, without the benefit of MACOs or your expertise. Now, all of a sudden, not only does he have to deal with the threat to Earth, but he also gets saddled with thirty strangers who have no clue what he's gone through and no interest in finding out. And then," he added, raising his palm when Matthew opened his mouth, "the leader of these FNGs keeps pretty much saying that everything he's done is not only inadequate, but detrimental to the success of the mission. And if Malcolm doesn't agree with that, it's because heâ€”and everyone he knows and trustsâ€”doesn't actually care enough to do better. Now," Joshua turned his palms upward, "how would you feel?"

Matthew stood still a second. Joshua wished he could tell what he was thinking. Then the major ducked his face into the crook of his arm, wiping away sweat. "I'm not here to make warm and fuzzy, Josh. I'm here to make sure we succeed."

"So is he."

Matthew smirked. "Yeah. Right." He ran his fingers through his hair. "He apologized to _me_ after our dustup, eh? Not the other way around. He even admitted he'd been trying to screw me over."

Joshua just looked at him. "So...what? You're saying his being man enough to acknowledge he fucked up, means you can keep acting like an asshole?"

Matthew's face tightened. "You're out of line, sergeant."

Joshua crossed his arms. "I thought I wasn't your subordinate tonight."

"You're pushing it."

"Fine," Joshua said. "How's this. Would it kill you to let him be right once in a while?"

"It might," Matthew snapped. "It just might kill all of us." He took a deliberate step back from the sergeant. "I'm done here, Joshua." He stepped off the treadmill, stalked over to his jacket, and yanked it from the floor. "Good workout," he snarled. "Tell Malcolm I said hi." He didn't look back as he walked out of the room.

"Great," Joshua said. "Just fucking great." He whipped his towel at the closing door. It didn't make him feel better.

* * *

"Chang to Kemper."

Joshua tapped his communicator before he tied the towel around his waist. Kit Chang had commed him using their own, the ones all the MACOs had implanted n their throats. "Kemper here." He stepped out of the tiny shower in the locker room next to the ship's gym. He'd left his change of clothes on a bench. "What's up, Kit?"

"Have you seen Hawk around tonight, sir?" Kit seemed surprisingly anxious. "Do you know where he is?"

Joshua stilled. "Sure," he said, keeping his voice casual as he lied. "Nate was in the gym just a little while agoâ€”said he might hit the mess afterward, get some milk or something." He forced a chuckle. "Why? You lonely?"

"Thanks, sir." Kit's relief somehow just weighted Joshua's concern. "It's just, you knowâ€”he's been kind of down lately. And he's my roommate. So I know he's not usually out this late."

"C'mon, Kit," Joshua kept his tone light, bantering, but he was pulling on his clothes as fast as he could. "You sound like you're the guy's dad or something."

Kit laughed a little, relaxing, though his voice was still serious. "I'm just kind of worried about him. He hasn't really been himself lately." Joshua could hear the static that meant the corporal was swallowing. "And he didn't answer, before, when I commed him. I'm sure it's nothing." He added the last bit quickly, like saying it would make it true.

"Yeah. He probably just wanted some time alone," Joshua said, letting out none of the new, sharper fear Kit's words had set coiling in his guts. He walked into his boots, then whipped through tying the laces. "Tell you whatâ€”I'm headed to the mess hall myself anyway. I'll let him know you've been looking for him."

"Thanks." Joshua could almost hear Kit smiling now, convinced everything was fine. "That'd be great. Chang out."

Joshua tapped his comm off as he all but ran out of the room.

* * *

_He's got two brothers,_ Joshua thought as he trotted along the corridor. _Two brothers, back on Earth. He wouldn't hurt himself._ He really wanted to believe that. But he remembered what Nathan had said weeks ago, about the airlocks, about using them as a way out. He had no idea what Nathan Hawkins might do. Joshua had told Malcolm Reed he'd talk to Hayes about Nathan, make sure the corporal got some help. He hadn't, though. He hadn't wanted Nathan to feel persecuted. He hadn't wanted to betray his confidence. He hadn't been sure, in the end, that telling Hayes would do Nathan any good at all.

He hadn't wanted to make things worse. But it looked like they had gotten worse anyway.

He hit the switch for the doors of the lower lounge, holding his breath as they slid open. The lounge was empty.

Joshua leaned against the wall, rubbing his hand over his face. Everything looked exactly the sameâ€”the couches, the small porthole, like no one had touched the place since Joshua and Nathan had been in there. He had no idea where else Nathan could be.

He hesitated before he tapped his comm. He didn't know what he'd do if Nathan didn't answer. "Kemper to Hawkins. Respond. What's your location?" He used the military language automatically. It let him feel more in control, despite how his heart was racing. And he hoped his tone would make Nathan answer him.

The time he had to wait for an answer was terrifying.

"Shuttle bay, sir." The response came at last. Joshua almost didn't recognize Nathan's voice, because it was so quiet. It sounded like he was whispering or having trouble speaking.

"Hold your position," Joshua snapped. "I'm on my way." He tapped his comm off, then slapped the lounge doors open. He took off down the corridor at a dead run.

* * *

He would never have thought to look for Nathan down here, in the shuttle bay. It was just damn lucky the corporal had decided to respond.

Or had been able to. No. He wasn't going there. Nathan would be all right.

Nathan had just wanted to be alone, that was all. And the shuttle bay was a great place for that: there would be no reason for anyone to come down here, unless they were doing maintenance or going on a mission. And no one would think to come here looking for you.

"Hawkins!" Joshua shouted down into the bay. The metal rang out horribly, as his booted feet clattered down the steps. "Nathan! Where the hell are you?"

"Here, sir." His voice sounded stronger than it had over the comm, but it was still almost drowned out by Joshua's footsteps before he reached the lower deck. "I'm over here. Between the shuttles."

Nathan was sitting on the floor, leaning against Shuttle Pod One. His legs were splayed out in front of him. His arm was curled over his stomach. He didn't try to stand when he saw his sergeant, but he smiled. He looked incredibly tired. "Hi."

"Hi." Joshua examined the corporal with his eyes, looking him over from head to toe as he walked up to him. "What the hell are you doing down here?"

"Nothing," Nathan said. He gave a slight shrug. "Just wanted some quiet, I guess." His expression became puzzled. "Why were you looking for me?"

"Chang said he couldn't raise you on the comm." Joshua crouched next to Nathan, facing him. He didn't like how pale Nathan's face was, how hard he was trying to look like nothing was wrong. "He asked me if I'd seen you. I lied."

Nathan's eyebrows rose. "What for?" There was sweat beading on his forehead, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. His other arm was still over his belly, like he didn't dare move it.

"Because I was afraid of how I might find you," Joshua said honestly. "I didn't want him to get worried, ask to help search."

"Oh." Nathan's voice was very small. He smiled again, but it was forced. "Well, I'm fine, sir. Really. You didn't have to worry. You can tell him I'll be back soon."

"After he's asleep, you mean." It wasn't a question. He gestured at Nathan's arm. "What are you hiding?"

Nathan froze, his eyes widening before he was able to school his features again. But if anything he'd gone even more pale. The man was a terrible liar. "Sir?"

"Your arm, Hawkins," Joshua said. He made his voice cold with unmistakable command. "Let me see your arm."

Nathan sucked in a breath. "Please," he said softly. "It's notâ€”"

"Dammit, Nathan!" Joshua grabbed Nathan's wrist and pulled his arm back.

Nathan's combat knife was lying against his stomach, where he'd been hiding it with his arm. The blade glistened with a thin rime of drying blood.

"Oh my God." Joshua's eyes, his mouth, opened in shock. He'd almost expected this, but actually seeing it was much, much worse.

He twisted Nathan's wrist, so he could see the underside of his arm. There was no blood. No cuts. Joshua let Nathan's arm go and picked up his other one. There were no cuts there, either, and none on the corporal's neck. Nathan let Joshua grab his wrists without any kind of protest, submissively let the sergeant move his head back and forth, inspecting him.

Joshua snatched the knife up, sliding it into the empty sheath on his belt, then looked at his hand. The backs of his fingers were wetâ€”wet and redâ€”where they'd pressed against Nathan's gray shirt. He moved from a crouch to his knees and yanked Nathan's shirt up.

"It's not suicide!" Nathan said urgently. "I swear it, sir. It's not!"

He had drawn lines on his abdomen with the knife: four of them, in neat horizontal rows, from his ribs to his belt line. They were all bleeding freely, though not deep enough to do any lasting harm. They probably wouldn't even scar if he ran a dermal regenerator over them.

Joshua looked from the cuts to Nathan's face. "Why?" He was still clutching the hem of the corporal's T-shirt, his fist trembling.

"It gets it out," Nathan said quietly. "It's the only thing that does, sometimes."

"Gets what out?" Joshua let go of Nathan's shirt, but left it rucked up, exposing the bleeding lines. He unconsciously put his hand over Nathan's forearm, needing the contact, the steady warmth of the other man's life. "Nathanâ€”I don't understand."

"Stress," Nathan said. He tipped his head back against the shuttle, closing his eyes. He looked slightly better, Joshua noted, a little more color in his face. "Anger, fear, everything. It just...I bleed it out like this. Like poison. I can get rid of it."

"You shouldn't do that," Joshua said. He had to swallow, his throat suddenly thick. He glanced at the lines again, hating them. "Those cuts...those cuts're pretty deep, Nate."

"It doesn't hurt," Nathan said. "It's a release. The release is incredible."

"Endorphins, you mean." Joshua looked back up at Nathan's face, but the corporal's eyes were still closed.

"Maybe." Nathan gave a tiny shrug. "I just need it, sometimes."

Joshua sat back, crossing his legs. He didn't let go of Nathan's arm. "What happened?"

"Nothing, really." Nathan's mouth barely curved in a smile. "I got a letter from Der and Si." He opened his eyes, looking at Joshua. "I told you about Derrick and Simon, right? My brothers?" Joshua nodded wordlessly. "Good." Nathan leaned his head back again, but he kept his eyes open, looking up at the ceiling. "They went snowboardingâ€”they're always doing stuff together. Mom used to joke they'd come out joined at the hip..." He smirked, but it just sounded sad. "Simon tried to take a turn too fast and went off the trail. He hit a tree and broke his leg."

"Is he all right?" Joshua asked, knowing that Simon was, that his injury wasn't even the point.

"Oh, sure," Nathan said. "He's fine. He was out of the cast before they even sent the letter. He told me Der wouldn't stop calling him 'gimpy' for three days." His laugh this time was more genuine, and Joshua smiled a little too, imagining two younger versions of Nathan, what it might have been like to have siblings of his own. But Nathan's laughter died all too quickly, and then his eyes were glistening as he tried to blink back tears. "But I wasn't _there,_ Josh. I wasn't there when Si was screaming on the mountain, or when Der was waiting in the hospital...I couldn't tell Der to stop bugging Si about it, or to make Si promise to be more careful next time. I wasn't there. I didn't even know it happened."

"I'm sure they know you would be if you could," Joshua said.

"But I can't," Nathan said. "I can't!" He took a deep breath, swiping at one of his eyes. "If we fail out here, they'll die. Everybody will die. I know that. But," his next breath shuddered. "I just want to go home, Josh. I just want to go home."

"I know," Joshua said. He would have hugged Nathan, except he didn't want to press on his cuts. So instead he slid his hand down from Nathan's forearm until he was holding his hand. Nathan gripped so tightly it hurt, but Joshua just let him. They stayed like that for a while, until Nathan finally let go of Joshua's hand.

"Thanks," he said. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Joshua said truthfully. He rolled up to his knees again. "How often do you cut yourself, Nathan?"

Nathan lowered his eyes. "Not that much. Really," he insisted at Joshua's look. "This is the first time in almost a year." He pulled his T-shirt down, as if he had to hide the cuts again or they would somehow betray him. "It's just been bad lately."

Joshua nodded. "All right." He made his gaze sharp. "But the next time you feel things are getting too muchâ€”you come talk to me, before you do anything. That's an order," he added, because Nathan had ignored him, before, when he'd offered as a friend.

"Yes sir," Nathan said, but his eyes flicked away.

"MACO's honor, Nathan," Joshua said. "I mean it."

Nathan's gaze snapped back to Joshua, and his eyes were wide. "Yes, sir." His voice had a touch of awe in it. "MACO's honor."

"Good," Joshua said brusquely. He got to his feet, holding out his hand. "It's late. We'd better get back."

Nathan nodded, letting Joshua pull him to his feet. He swayed against the shuttle pod. "Headrush," he explained sheepishly. Joshua's eyes went to the bloodstain on his T-shirt, but he didn't mention it.

"Do you need to go to sickbay?"

"No." Nathan shook his head. He smiled, though he looked guilty. "I kind of...borrowed a dermal regenerator from Jupiter Station before we left."

"That was stupid," Joshua said. And what it implied about Nathan's emotions at the time was chilling.

"I know," Nathan said. His eyes were bleak. "I didn't know what else to do."

"You know now," Nathan said. He put his hand on Nathan's shoulder. "You know nowâ€”you come and talk to me."

"Yes, sir." Nathan moved to tuck his T-shirt in again, then stopped when he saw how much blood had stained through. "Damn," he whispered. There was no way he'd be able to hide it.

"Here." Joshua had seen the same thing and had already taken off his jacket. He handed it to Nathan. "You can give it back to me tomorrow, when you get your knife."

"Thank you, sir." Nathan said. He pulled the jacket on, zipping it up quickly.

"You're welcome," Joshua said. He hoped this was right, what he was doing. What if Nathan didn't come to him, despite his promise? What if the next time he didn't stop cutting? The shudder that went through Joshua at the thought was like pain.

"Nathan." He put his hand next to the corporal's neck, right where it curved to meet his shoulder. He could feel the man's collarbone under his palm. "You're important to me," he said simply. "You're important to the other MACOs. You've got two baby brothers who are counting on you to get home." He tightened his hand a little bit, but not enough to hurt. "I don't want you to do this anymore."

Nathan nodded seriously. "I understand, sir. I'll try."

"Okay." Joshua patted Nathan's shoulder one more time, then pulled his hand back. He knew that was the best answer he would get.

He kept his eyes on Nathan's back all the way up the stairs, ready in case the corporal got light-headed again. In case he needed him.

* * *

Joshua stood outside Malcolm Reed's quarters. The lieutenant was most likely asleep. He shouldn't be bothering him. It was selfish, completely selfish to do this.

But he was missing Malcolm terribly tonight. He hit the chime anyway.

"Come in." The answer over the door comm was gratifyingly immediate. Maybe he hadn't woken him up after all.

"Joshua!" Malcolm was grinning, and he looked so genuinely delighted that Joshua relaxed, smiled back. Malcolm was dressed for sleep, but it didn't seem like he'd been in bed yet, despite how late it was. His feet were bareâ€”Joshua loved that. "I wasn't expecting you."

"I know. Sorry." Joshua felt his smile slide away. He couldn't even pretend to be all right. "I needed to see you."

"I'm here." Malcolm smiled gently. He cupped Joshua's face, and Joshua closed his eyes, savoring the touch. "What's wrong?"

Joshua walked forward, until he could pull Malcolm into a hug. Malcolm returned it fiercely, and Joshua wondered if Malcolm knew how very much he needed that. "Can I stay here tonight?" he asked. He raised his head, moving back just enough so they could be face to face. "Just to sleep, I mean. Would that be okay?"

"Of course," Malcolm said, and he looked so concerned Joshua could only imagine what his own expression was like. "What is it? What happened?"

Joshua let out a heavy sigh, surprised when it shook. He pulled Malcolm to him again, holding tightly. He leaned his head against Malcolm's. "Do you ever feel like, whatever you do, no matter how hard you try, it isn't enough? That it'll never be enough? You can't make anything better?"

He felt one of Malcolm's hands slide up the back of his neck, threading into his hair. "Yes," was all Malcolm said, but the simple conviction in his voice was like a weight.

"Yeah," Joshua said. "It's been that kind of night."

He felt the touch of a kiss to the side of his head. "You're a good man, Joshua," Malcolm said. "I'm sure that what you did was enough."

"Thank you," Joshua whispered. He didn't believe it, even though he wanted to. But it was a nice thing for Malcolm to say.


End file.
